The Genuine Guitarist, Bill Frisell

Listen to guitarist Bill Frisell talk about his recent projects in his
wide-eyed, open manner and you can easily mistake him for some newcomer who
has stumbled into the limelight instead of a seasoned veteran who
consistently places at or near the top of critics' polls. His humility at
being able to record with the likes of Ry Cooder is genuine and a large part
of what makes him one of the most interesting, distinctive and eclectic
instrumentalists in contemporary American music.

He became a favorite on the Downtown New York scene in the '80s with his
adventurous use of volume and electronic effects, and throughout the '90s
has delved deeply into the roots of Americana, exploring everything from
Sousa marches to Southern folksongs. His quirky phrasing, wry wit and
unbridled enthusiasm for every project he undertakes have allowed him to win
new fans without alienating his old ones. Even when he's exploring the
American song form there's always a moment when the wild guitar
pyrotechnician will rise to the surface. A tweak of a knob in the midst of
some tender ballad and he can suddenly be screaming like a teenager with a
big amp and a new guitar.

"Oh, yeah," he chuckles, "that stuff is still in there and it still comes
out every once in awhile."

On the surface, there's little in Frisell's early background to point to
where he has landed at age 48. Born in Baltimore, he grew up in Denver,
where he studied clarinet and saxophone before The Beatles drew him -- like
many other 13-year-old boys -- to the electric guitar. Proceeds from a paper
route bought him his first guitar-and-amp combination. Although he majored
in music at the University of North Colorado and studied with jazz guitar
legend Jim Hall at Boston's Berklee College of Music, he didn't have a clear
concept of his own potential until he reconciled the jazz he was studying
with the rock guitarists who had captured his imagination in the '60s. After
a period of self-doubt, he determined that he could play jazz with as much
abandon as Jimi Hendrix or Eric Clapton displayed.

He says the secret to finding his own voice was in hearing beyond the guitar
itself.

"I didn't even think of it as a guitar. It just seemed like the perfect
instrument to get out all sorts of things. You can play a lot of things like
Miles Davis or Sonny Rollins or various piano players on the guitar. You can
get to a lot of things -- orchestral music or whatever."

It has only been recently that Frisell has explored beyond his triad of
personal guitar heroes: Hall, Hendrix and Wes Montgomery.

"I've been attracted to more guitar music, mostly older music like bluegrass
and some of the early blues players. That's been coming out in my music a
lot more. I've discovered that I like a really broad range of guitarists. I
like listening to Segovia as much as Robert Johnson."

The change has resulted in a greater use of acoustic guitar and a more
refined use of electronics. After years of relying heavily on a volume pedal
and numerous other devices to shape his sound, he has pared down to just
four modification devices.

"It's part of whittling things down. I don't know whether it's part of
getting older, or just this research I've been doing into the music that got
me playing in the first place. Lately, I've been more attracted to simpler
songs and melodies. For as long as I've been playing, I've been trying to
take away the excess and get to just the bare minimum; just playing less and
less. That's why I'm always attracted to the melody rather than all the
fancy stuff you can do with it. The jazz players I really love are those
like Miles Davis who can really play a melody."

It's no surprise, then, that his latest projects, a large-scale
orchestration of Burt Bacharach and Elvis Costello songs called The
Sweetest Punch that features musicians including Cassandra Wilson, Don
Byron and Brian Blade and a quartet recording, Good Dog, Happy Man,
are filled with strong melodic ideas like the gorgeous Southern lament,
"Shenandoah."

Performed as a duet with guitarist Ry Cooder, "Shenandoah" is a piece that
can raise your neck hair with its heart-breaking lilt. Frisell and Cooder
sound like they were made to play it together, and the story behind their
collaboration has the ring of fate to it.

"Ry's kind of like a hero of mine," says Frisell shyly. "He came to see the
trio [with drummer Jim Keltner and bassist Viktor Krauss] in Los Angeles and
I guess he liked it. The first thing that came into my mind was, 'I wonder
if I can get him to play with me.' It was a long process, but we stayed in
touch and he had the idea that we could play 'Shenandoah' because he liked
this version that this little-known guitarist Johnny Smith had played. Ry
didn't know that I had studied with Johnny Smith when I still lived in
Colorado. So I think that really got me in with him."

Frisell's genuine surprise that Cooder would want to record with him extends
to his underestimation of his attraction to other players from popular
music. Although he says he would love to play with some of the
singer-songwriters who share his interest in Americana, he concludes that he
might have to make the first move.

"I got to play one song with Emmylou Harris on a radio show once, but I'm
not sure how aware of me those kinds of musicians are. It's still kind of a
different world, I think."

Perhaps, but Frisell is thriving in his own world. Calls to guest on
recordings by artists as diverse as drummer Ginger Baker and trumpeter Kenny
Wheeler keep him on the road, away from his family in Seattle. On the eve of
leaving for a film score project in Europe, Frisell says he is trying to
make more time for his own music but sees little possibility of slowing
down.

"Doing my own stuff makes it even harder to stop. After working so hard to
get it going, when it starts going I don't want to not do it."

He takes one of his characteristic long pauses and his voice fills with wonder.